


In Which Our Lovely Delinquent Characters Get Caught

by blacksunshine29



Category: Crooked kingdom, Six of Crows - Fandom
Genre: AU where everyone lives, or as much as you can get with kaz, pretty specific trope, some heart to heart, which is not a lot tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:39:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27840118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacksunshine29/pseuds/blacksunshine29
Summary: six main dregs on a mission (the mission isn't really that important) they get caught (unlikely i know) and they get asked the same questions and it's about their different answers and stuff. sounds boring but i think it's pretty entertaining.
Relationships: Kaz Brekker & Nina Zenik
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	In Which Our Lovely Delinquent Characters Get Caught

**Author's Note:**

> matthias is alive, ik that they probably wouldn't all get caught but it's just to see their reactions and what not

Close your eyes and pretend that a) everyone is alive and b) they got captured. Thanks. This is for a pretty specific trope that I found on a Tumblr post. The trope: “your group of main characters has been split up for questioning and they’re all answering the same questions in a neatly-spliced montage.” This isn’t montage but if you use your imagination it may as well be.

So here we go:

The boy sitting in the cell looked like a psychopath. He probably could be, the guard watching him reflected. He had an undercut, a jawline that could cut someone’s heart open, eyes that looked dead and the palest skin the guard had ever seen. He was dressed smartly, a tailored suit with a vest, a pocket watch, engraved cane and leftover gel in his hair. He had a gash on his cheek but had refused any aid. He sat completely still and staring straight ahead. Kaz Brekker. Dirtyhands. Quite the reputation for a seventeen year old boy.

In another cell down the hall was another boy. Improbably tall and pacing, this boy was wearing a rather gauche outfit: bright pink pants and a lemony colored button down that contrasted his dark skin. He was used to attention; you could tell just by looking at him. His guns were possibly the nicest the guard had ever seen. Zemini made with pearl handles; this was Jesper Fahey. Brekker’s gunner, known for his reckless smile and flirtatious manner.

A small girl, who seemed to exist on the border of this world and another sat in a corner examining the vent in a not-so-subtle way. Her hair was pulled back tighter than should be allowed and framed her caramel skin. She seemed to slip in and out of the shadows. The Wraith. Brekker’s right hand woman. A spider. Inej Ghafa.

Across the hall from her sat a small, timid, looking boy. Just a couple months prior he had baby soft skin  
and luxuriously managed curls. Now he wore abrasions on his cheeks, his hair was knotted and calluses adorned his hands. He sat perfectly in the center of the cell, criss cross apple sauce, head bowed and drawing something in the dust on the floor. The bag that had been confiscated from him was full of experimental bombs. He was more dangerous than he looked. Wylan Van Eck. The mercher’s son.

A girl wrapped in shreds of a red robe. At first glance it’s obviously a Grisha’s clothing but upon closer examination it’s a fake. Something has happened to this girl to lead her here. Her skin is creamy white and she buzzes with that energy that all Grisha have. She’s responsible for the deaths of most of the guards. No stab wounds on their bodies, just shriveled lungs and the faint tang of electricity in the air. Nina Zenik. Maybe she’ll evacuate the air from your body. Maybe she’ll buy some waffles.

The last one is the oldest. Broad shoulders, shorn hair, military build. Stormy blue eyes, this is a man who doesn’t want to be here. He wears his shame like a coat and his skin is almost gray. He hasn’t seen the sun in far too long. His presence here comes as a surprise. A witch hunter working with a witch. Matthias Helvar. The soldier. A long lost soul.

The interrogator cleared his throat. His name was James. Plain enough. James was by all standards an intimidating man. That’s why he was an interrogator. Kaz Brekker did not looked intimidated.  
“I’m Interrogator James Roberts.” He stuck his hand out. Brekker ignored it and watched him testily. It made James want to run back to his mother. “Well, I have a few questions for you. Name?”  
The boy looked at him unimpressed, “Brekker. Kaz Brekker.”  
James nodded, “Team members names?”  
“I work alone.” He replied. This was most certainly false, thought James.

The next one was more forthcoming than his friend, he bounced his leg and replied readily, “Jesper Fahey.”  
James repeated his question from earlier, “Team members names?”  
Jesper smirked, “I’m sure you know their names. We’re quite famous, see.” He relaxed now, leaning his chair back so it balanced on two legs.

“Name?” James asked.  
The girl looked slightly peeved, “Which one?” She asked him.  
He tilted his head, “The one people call you?”  
“Certain?” There was something unnerving about this girl, James decided.  
“Birth name.” This time she cocked her head at him.  
“I was reborn in Ketterdam.” She sounded like a Suli fortune teller. “They call me the Wraith.” For any other sixteen year old girl he might’ve found this snobbish but something about her made him question his morals.

“What is your name?” He asked the timid looking boy.  
The boy raised his head and adopted a posh accent, “Wylan Van Eck.” He enunciated his words and carried a sense of superiority.  
“Team members?” James enquired, seeking a solid answer.  
“Kaz.” Was all the boy said.  
“Anyone else?” James pushed. The boy said nothing.

“Can you tell me your name?” He asked, feeling slightly distracted by how low her robes hung.  
“My eyes are up here Inspector James Roberts.” She smirked at him and he flushed feeling slightly mollified. “Nina.”  
“Your team member’s names?” James asked.  
“Psychopath who thinks he’s cool and mysterious. Gambler who is definitely in love with the artist. The Wraith and the soldier.” She replied. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Oh, and me.” She added with a smile.

The soldier seemed unwilling to speak at all, “Name?”  
“I am under no obligation to answer your questions.” The words were flat and monotone. He was well trained.  
“Legally I think you are.” James countered.  
“You don’t seriously think that I take legalities into my concern, do you?” He replied in the same deadened tone. James just grinned.

Brekker is still glaring at him, “What brought you to break into the stadhal?” James asked.  
“Money.” Is all he says.

“Who says I broke into the stadhal?” Fahey challenges. The glint in eyes tells James that he’s enjoying this.  
“I received a message late at night that a group of six teenagers broke into the stadhal. You were one of the six.” James replied sighing. He can already tell where this is going.  
“You were thinking about me? Late at night? What was I wearing?” The boy winks. That wasn’t where he thought it was going.

Ghafa says, “To feel the wind in my hair and the taste of sweet revenge on my tongue.” He has a feeling that she’s playing with him.

The mercher’s son will speak, “Because Ketterdam cares more about herself than her people.” It’s cryptic but he assumes the kid is talking about the gap between the rich and the poor. One the boy must certainly be familiar with.

The Grisha girl is smiling again, “I was hoping to see you.” She winks at him. He really needs to find a job where he doesn’t get hit on by overly cocky teenage delinquents.

Helvar remains silent. No amount of prodding gets him to speak.

“Can you tell me how you all came to be here?” James tries. If anything, they’ll all feed him a different cock and bull stories and he can compare the similarities.  
“I convinced them to come with me as a joke.” Brekker says. James waits for him to continue, “To make a mockery of the merchants. Hence my dress.” He gestures down at himself. It’s believable. The two cocky ones who flirted with him definitely seemed the type to play jokes. The quiet mercher’s kid ran away for a reason, no doubt he wouldn’t mind make a fool of his heritage. The girl that spoke in poetry was playing with him he could easily see her doing something of the sort. Only the stalwart soldier baffled him. Then the boy adds this, “It’s none of their faults. Whatever stupid story they tell, they’re just being self sacrificing.” James raises his brows.

“How we came to be here? That’s a very existential question.” Fahey declared with a laugh. He sobers up and says, “We do it all the time. Just to prove we can. Where’d you grow up?” He asks.  
“Shu Han.” James replies before realizing that he’s the interrogator, “And you?”  
“Novyi Zem. See, when you live in Kerch you learn quick enough that all we care about is money. I can tell you straight off the bat that we never have enough money. So, there’s your answer.”

Ghafa looked him straight in the eyes and deadpans, “I was kidnapped and sold into prostitution.” He’s not too shocked at the events. Girls that look like her are taken all the time. What’s shocking was her delivery.

“Oh, um, well we we’re doing a job. We get sent on those all the time and this time it was to go into the stadhal. You’ve met Kaz, he does the leading and all that but really, we have like a higher up who sends us on all these pointless missions. Like this one, there was no reason to go into the Stadhal besides being able to say that we had.” He was blundering his way through it but if Kaz was to be believed than this kid was telling the truth. He seemed the least likely to be able to lie. Something about those cherub like cheeks.

Helvar does not speak. He sits in silence and is potentially praying.

James’ final question before he can go home and forget about what he’s nicknamed the bastard six is, “You are charged with breaking and entering, stealing money, spying and gaining unlawful information, first degree murder, creating and denotating bombs and impersonating a guard. How do you plead?”  
Brekker smiles like he knows he’ll get away with it, “Guilty.”

Fahey stops smiling, “Guilty.”

Ghafa watches him like he’s a puzzle she hasn’t figured out yet, “Is it a crime to live?” He’d decided against answering her philosophical questions.

Van Eck looked merely flustered, “Guilty.”

Zenik twiddles her thumbs looking bored and a bit abashed, “Guilty.”  
Helvar smiles, “Innocent.” James narrowed his eyes at the boy but he said nothing more.

Late at night when James is reporting the results of his interrogation a large crash reverberated through the holding cells. They jumped to their feet and James after fumbling with his flashlight held it in front of him like a laser. There was no other sound after that crash; briefly the lights flicked on and then every light in the hall turned off. James’ flashlight illuminated Kaz Brekker. He was leaning on his cane in the middle of the hall way. The cut on his face had been healed and his hair was combed. His suit had been dusted off and now he looked as though he’d live up to his name. He started walking towards them. James hadn’t noticed the limp until now. They stood still waiting for the boy to reach them. James had heard the rumors, everyone in Kerch had. That he was part demon and hid his claws under those leather gloves. That he needed no reason to snap someone’s neck or crush their soul. That Kaz Brekker did what Kaz Brekker wanted. He was startingly young. He didn’t look old enough to grow a beard; he should be in school, James realized. It was the last thing he thought before that flashy cane came swinging around and hit his head. His head crashed against the other guard and they collapsed to the floor.

“Would’ve been quieter if I did it.” Zenik said, creeping out of the shadows. She healed their heads but made sure they stayed passed out.

“Regardless.” Brekker replied. His limp was more severely pronounced now that he wasn’t putting on a show. “It’s about the message, Nina.”

She tsked at him and gave him an appraising look, “How’s the leg?”

He shook it out a little, “Worse with the weather. Nothing new.”

She sighed, “Inej would have your head for that.” She fell into step beside him.

“She’s not here.” He replied.

She looked up as if she could find something in the vents, “Could be.”

“Couldn’t.” He said firmly. 

“I could heal it.” She started wearily. It sounded like something she’d suggested on multiple occasions.

“No.”

“You have enough character without a badly healed leg. Besides, no one would have to know.” She was fighting a lost cause.

“They would know. I don’t need your help Zenik.” He snarled. The most unsettled he’d been all day. He hated the fact that she could get under his skin so easily.

“Actually,” She sing songed, “you do, you just refuse my help. There’s a difference.” He flips her off and she just laughs. He knows she’s watching his every step. She’s walking slower than her normal pace and would catch him the moment he even tripped slightly. He hates how much she cares. He hates how much it touches him that she does. That even after he’d flat out refused to help her, she would still offer to help him.

“Inej is better company.” He complained.

“That’s because you like her.” Nina said matter of factly. “Wylan is extremely smart and you were the first to really accept him. You know he owes you loyalty. You like Jesper too even if you’re loathe to admit it. Matthias was just helpful to get into the Ice Court.” She sounds almost a little sad. 

Kaz hates what she’s saying. He hates that she knows him so well, “I like you too.” He says grudgingly. It’s the right thing to say, he knows. Inej has drilled into him that it’s okay to say stuff like that.

She just laughs, “You’re better off telling that to Jesper.”


End file.
